After glaring at the board for another minute, Prop figured he was only making a fool of himself in front of an unseen audience, and nabbed the black king piece out of spite before marching onwards, looking for
something else to interact with. The earlier shouting was a much needed vent he had to do anyway, and it was only the better that nobody he could see was there to witness such a silly display. A drawn out trot and he went further still, this time using the chessboard as the next closest point of return. If it weren't for the fact he was unable to immediately leave the room, Propman would consider this area almost relaxing in comparison to the rest of the dungeon; sans for some inexplicable piano musac coming from the west, it was rather quiet, while the the atmosphere was not to hot nor too cold. He contemplated simply laying on the floor, resting until Hugo and the rest of his crew figured out he wasn't among them, and used their problem-solving skills to get him out of the predi-
Propman slapped himself across the face, making a rather rich slapstick noise the resonated across the area.
No, we was NOT going to be the load of the group, and they certainly wouldn't be happy if they figured they had to "rescue" him on an on and off basis. He refocused as he near-hugged the southern wall. His next clue came into the form of graffiti textured onto it in blurry, decompressed typeface, coming into view after a good minute's walk.
"Forced perspective is an optical illusion that uses your point of view to fool the eye. It makes objects seem smaller or larger than they actually are. Even the most massive objects in the universe can be tamed using your imagination. If by proceeding you agree to waive all moral concerns and metaphysical risks.
-Fellow Wanderer; I'm transcribing this from the museum's interior in case anybody else has to solve this puzzle. Don't end up like the person on the end of the eastern wall! Move onto the next section!
Wondering a bit how someone could write on the polygonal walls in such a fashion, Propman pondered. Those words seemed familiar.
In fact, this whole room seemed a bit familiar now that he thought about it, as if he saw something a bit like it once before. Not delaying, he went forward, coming across more graffiti.
Okay, I'm not going to quote the plaques anymore; going in between rooms is too much effort. Basically, use that thing attached on your arm/leg/whathaveyou on one of the virtual items. It'll project it to the end of your line of sight, causing it to shrink or expand depending on your perspective relative to it. Point it near a wall and walk to it while hovering it to get it closer, and most likely cause it to increase in size. Remember, it's YOUR perspective; be VERY careful when using this stuff near other people, or you might sent a rock colliding into them at light speed, or worse, crush somebody! Also, you can't do this outside of the museum area: You can tell if you're inside it based on the coffee scent! Weird, eh?
-Fellow Wanderer; PS, if you're wondering how I'm writing like this, it's because my class is Hacker. Damn useless for most anything else in this fantasy wasteland. If you see any other text written on virtual walls, it's likely me or one of my class compatriots.
Huh. That must mean that other groups traversing the dungeon are a certainty, assuming that they didn't also settle into a town like the hub. Though, that led to a question coming up in the adventurer's mind: If this room was already solved once before, it must have been reset at some point.
Would the rooms his group solved reset, too? Bah, he was here for less then a full day. If they did, then they must do so in weeks or some other drawn out period of time, and would likely not effect him or the others if they kept making progress. Deciding to test the hacker's statements, he took out the black king and set it on the floor. Pulling up his puffy sleeve, he revealed the Pip-Boy-like device and directed it at the diminutive king, pointing it at an angle so as to stop it a fair distance close to the western wall, squinting at it to make sure he was in-line with the illusion. He flicked his wrist, then started to fiddle with the buttons, not exactly knowing what he was supposed to do. He placed the upper palm over the HUD, and after a moment of feeling the cold, glassy screen, it started to tingle a bit. The king lifted in the air, and what's more, he could physically feel the airflow being obstructed by it as it grew in size into a jagged doppelganger of the chessroom guardian. Smiling at his success, he again lifted it using the machine, this time moving it away from him through angling against the wall, causing it to shrink until it was once more small enough to fit into his pocket.
Now that he figured out the room's mechanics,
he needed to find a way to bridge the exit.
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Topic: If Forumites Were Stuck in an RPG (2nd thread. REBOOT COMMENCED) (Read 290856 times)